Disrupted Stillness
by Kirei na Hotaru
Summary: This is an Original Character pairing with the SCII version of Link. The rating may and probably will change depending on how this goes.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Calibur or any of its characters.and if I did you know I'd be working off of a much nicer computer.like a nice Alienware.^-^ Anyhow, I'm a poor mofo so Namco wont sue anyhow as well as Nintendo since I don't own Link but if I did I sure as heck wouldn't share him.  
  
AN: This is my first fanfiction.net attempt so I may not have all the SCII facts straight or an altogether a really gripping tale. Doesn't mean I won't try though. If I'm off, kindly correct me and I'll be better for it. Thanks!  
  
Soul Calibur II: Disrupted Stillness  
  
Prologue: Quest for Knowledge  
  
You enter a crumbling cathedral, surveying its aged dependence on its ancient foundations that seem to cling to the earth like dust on a relic. Footsteps echo hollowly as your shoes tread the worn bricks and cobblestones under your feet. This place is in itself, a holy place; yet one that holds more importance for its roles in the stories of many individuals that were in search of Soul Edge.  
  
By now, the edifice itself is preserved; letting those, much like yourself, who wish to learn about the heroes that had once stood within the hallowed building partake of what documentation is left. Upon inquiry towards one of the caretakers about what would be a good volume to browse through, she moves carefully to a shelf and pulls a large tome off, cradling it with great care. Handing it to you, she smiles knowingly and moves on to help another visitor; leaving you with the yellowing volume in your keeping.  
  
As if in wait for you, a padded chair sits near a window at a low table, perfect for reading; so you decide to take up a place there and set the book on the tabletop gently. Using a hand, you push a little of the grime that time had deposited on its cover away and open the cover carefully. Orderly and elegant script flows across the parchment like ripples in a pond that lure your eyes to consume the words and drink in the narrative as they begin to dance over the first few sentences.  
  
"Fate and destiny have exceptional ways of dealing the cards of a warrior's life. This tale is like numerous others encompassing the Sword of Salvation except in the way that our hero becomes involved against her fonder wishes. Nevertheless, it is still a tale to be told like all others with little bias and as much detail as this simple writer can muster. I am, admittably not creative enough to construct a story as wonderful as this in my opinion; for truly, some of the best stories happen on their own." 


	2. Memories and Regrets

Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own any of Namco or Nintendo's goods. . . and if I did, I still wouldn't share Link because I'm greedy.  
  
AN: I'm not sure how much I like my Prologue, but that's ok since I wrote it late at night. I'll add another para here that I wish I'd thought up last night, but it seems to work out fine here too. . .My last AN holds true still. Thanks!  
  
*oniisan = older brother  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"It has been told that in the third generation of warriors in search of the Sword of Salvation, newcomers and outsiders joined the ranks of those strong enough to pursue. Our story focuses on the paths of two individuals who's destinies have been intertwined by the quest for Soul Calibur. Listen well to my recounting of their story so that time may not overshadow them. . ."  
  
Despite the few tears in the parchment, you are able to skim the document's beginning paragraphs quickly, learning that the author is in fact relaying a tale told to him by someone who was directly involved with the story itself. With this new information, you move onto the next sentence after, reading much slower now as the words become the voices and actions of the players in the tale itself and no longer the writer's own thoughts.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
The wind felt so good as it kissed her skin in the early twilight that had begun to settle on the ruins she stood amid, causing her to shiver lightly out of relief. The journey up to the cathedral had proven more than she had hoped to bite off, though not impossible. "I shouldn't be so weary now. . ." she muses while one hand moves out lazily to touch the cool stones of a crumbled wall. "But I suppose it makes sense after I exerted myself trying to outrun that crazed ninja woman."  
  
Finding a spot she deemed suitable, she leans her back against the wall and slides down into a sitting position on the dusty stones beneath her. Her hands slip down the shaft of her weapon as she sits; holding it upright from the bottom until she lets it lower horizontally so she can lay it across her lap.  
  
She relaxes with her knees drawn up and her arms resting folded on top of her glaive. It was a rather meticulously wonderful piece of weaponry. She had always admired it back home when it rested on its rack; carefully tended to and cleaned. Her brother loved it better than the other weapons in his collection, though he did not posses the knowledge to fight with it.  
  
She had practiced with the staff ever since she began her training, so the glaive was not much of a difference for her, save the bladed end. Her eyes move to admire the glint of the metal at the end in the falling darkness. It reflected the few stars that had come out above her; almost looking innocent despite its purpose as a weapon. Her fingers idly trace the engravings encircling the shaft, moving up and down the runes and decorative markings while she turns her attention before her. "Should I just camp here tonight? It isn't very well protected. . .but who would come to a place like this? It's so run down, it can't possibly be of any use."  
  
That said, she pulls the hood of her cloak up, covering her red-blonde hair and ears. She knew enough to know that it was much easier to preserve body heat if your head was covered; besides, it would hide her gender as well from random passersby. She wasn't that naive to not know a female traveling alone could possibly be in danger. Resting her head on her knees, she closes her eyes and tries to catch a little sleep. Her thoughts swim though her mind like so many fish, much like the ones in the pond near her home. She had fallen in once, only to be fished out by her brother who scolded her after.  
  
"Don't you even know how to swim, Yuri chan? You won't ever be able to become better than me if you can't do such basic things."  
  
"I'm so sorry, oniisan*. . .I do my best. You just wait and see, I'll become stronger than you!" She smiles to herself at the memory as it replays slowly and vividly in her mind's eye. She had learned how to swim soon after; stubbornly returning to the pond in the afternoons after practice until supper and sometimes after if she could get away with it. Her mother had worried she would catch a cold from doing so, but she never did; though Hikaru had gotten scolded for pushing her to it.  
  
She missed him sorely ever since he had left their home near the Plum tree to look for the legendary Soul Edge ten years ago. Her father had forbade his leaving, telling him it was needless and risky; though perhaps his objections spurned her brother even more. "You were so stubborn oneesan. . ." she whispers softly, squeezing her eyes against an onslaught of hot tears that threatened to fall at the memory of him. She remembered how she had run after him, beckoning him back pathetically through sobs and shouts of anger. She was only nine then, but she knew even at that age how hopeless a search for such a weapon was.  
  
Opening her jade eyes she sighs heavily, trying to push such sad thoughts back to their shelves in her memories; remembering her need to rest her body. She rescans the area slowly, looking for movement though not really expecting to find any and pulls the sides of her cloak over her legs; shifting them under the cloth slightly to fit better in the warmth it provides against the evening chill. Her head falls again to her knees and the hood obscures the last of her body from view as she slowly drifts into a light sleep.  
  
The night fell peacefully and without incident or noise from anyone disturbing the quiet of the ruins. The only movements were those of the few animals that had made their homes in the small crevices among the brickwork that still stands. Insects come out to sing their evening songs, as if trying to ward off the cold season just a little longer so they can remain active. Footsteps from soft boots echo off the ruins faintly with a casual swiftness to them. A figure moves through the crisp night towards the cathedral, their shoulders set wearily in order to carry the weapon on their back. They have the aura of one who has traveled long and tirelessly and still travels when most are resting. Link was used to giving unrelenting effort into his quests; it was his responsibility. Usually however, he was on his own turf or some place connected to it; not in an entirely different world. He had no idea how he had ever thought that he would be able to find the source of Hyrule's troubles in such a place.  
  
Through the information people had given him and information he had forced out of others, he discovered the one responsible wielded a sword called the 'Soul Edge' that concentrated their powers and fed off of the souls of the slain. He had never heard of an object so horrible on its own and could only imagine what its owner would be like. Someone like that should be easy enough to find, yet he was not having very much luck in his quest.  
  
In honesty, he had returned to this cathedral in desperation. This was the place he had entered this world from and perhaps he could just go home here as well. He suspected the Ocarina of Time would suffice in returning him, but a part of him nagged at his grudging choice to give up. He was not a quitter by nature, but this seemed so impossible that he doubted his own abilities to subdue such a strong power if he even found it. Scowling, he hated to think Zelda's trust in him as a great hero was misplaced and clenches his fists tightly in anger at his own shortcomings.  
  
He comes upon the structure at last, stepping inside it with a soft sigh passing from his lips. It still looked the same though he was not sure why he expected anything different. The breeze brushes his blonde hair before his blue eyes and against his long elflike ears, sending a small chill through him. He had gotten more than a few odd looks from the people in this land and a few rude remarks. He shrugged them off but he could not help but wonder if there were stranger looking individuals than he in search for the same bounty as he.  
  
Moving into a small patch of moonlight cast on the stone floor through a hole in one far wall, he reaches into the pouch at his belt. His fingers close around a smooth instrument and he draws it out to gaze at it a moment. The Ocarina of Time looked so simple in his gloved hands yet the magic within it was very valuable; enough to move him through time itself. He hesitates a moment then puts the mouthpiece to his lips and positions his fingers over the proper holes in the instrument. Slowly, he breathes in a breath to blow into the round flutelike object then stops; his eyes caught by a glint of light in the shadows.  
  
He lowers the ocarina slowly and stares into the dim light with his finely sharpened vision. The light seemed to reflect off a metal object and he could make out a mass huddled near it. Slowly, he replaces the Ocarina of Time in his pouch and reaches back carefully; drawing his sword, the Master Sword, from its elaborate sheath on his back and lifts his shield from his back. He slides the straps on the back of the shield over his arm and closes his fingers around the handle, holding it in front of his body.  
  
Cautiously, he moves towards the figure, choosing his steps with care so as not to make noise. Holding his sword high, he comes up to what seems to be a huddled figure under a rough brown cloth and waits to see if it moves. Sensing life, he reaches out with carefully with his sword hand, catching the very edge of the cloth in his fingers and begins to lift it tentatively. 


	3. Shock and Awe

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, no Nintendo or Namco ownage. Don't sue me. But I'll take Link if you're offering.  
  
AN: Everything from the prologue's AN still true. . .sorry for the hold up, life got a little hectic, but hey, at least I'm trying again, right?  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Link's fingers inch the cloth up as he peers underneath it, discerning the top of a person's head in the shadows that indicated that their face was cast down into their lap. He assumes they are sleeping whoever they are and he mildly wonders why anyone would want to camp out in the ruins of a cathedral. His eyes travel away towards the source of the light's diversion that had caught his attention in the first place. It was a curved blade that was attached to a staff that the person had laid across their lap. Not a great way to be ready to defend one's self, but perhaps the traveler was exhausted. Gaze traveling slowly, he notices the runic engravings in the staff as his curiosity piques. He lowers his face just slightly so he can try to read them; thinking them a slightly Hylian in nature; or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. He was perhaps more tired than he thought, forgetting his breath in the close proximity he shared with the sleeping figure.  
  
Yuri opens her eyes in shock. She'd felt a warm brush against her hair though it felt like a breath or breathing. Come to think of it, she felt a body close to her, overshadowing her and suspending her cloak away from her. Working out of its tired bewilderment, her mind works to piece together her surroundings to form a course of action. It felt like a person. . .a male was standing over her, their presence was too large to be female.  
  
"I mustn't panic. . .I must remain calm. . .look for an opportunity to strike and flee." She thinks as she wills her breathing to calm once more. Her hands quiver just slightly as they clench the glaive in anticipation. "What does he want. . ." she questions impatiently while she waits. Her eyes open and she stares into the darkness of her lap, discerning her belt buckle as it peeks from under the cloak folds. "I can't take this anymore! I'll be killed if I wait any longer!" her mind screams; her feet shifting slowly in preparation to spring from their resting places.  
  
He had become too interested in making out the inscriptions to notice her feet, but he noticed the movement of hands; the movement of clenching. It meant that he had been careless.  
  
"I'd better move, I think they woke-" his thoughts are interrupted as he feels the end of the staff swiftly tip up and knock him off balance momentarily. The figure moves to a standing position with relative ease and faces him, weapon at the ready. "So much for being careful. . ." he thinks abysmally. The sword drops downwards as he twirls it into a ready position in front of him; his eyes following his opponent. Voice raised, he shouts a warning to the fighter opposite him, "I have no quarrel with you!"  
  
"Liar. . ." she thinks as she straightens herself; muscles aching at having their rest interrupted so rudely. Her breath comes quickly now, pressed by adrenaline that rushes through her even now. Vision attuned, she studies her adversary, taking in a green tunic and his large broadsword held in a gloved hand. "Can that be. . .the Soul Edge?" her mind asks as her eyes move to look towards the face of the sword's owner. Blonde hair. . .blue eyes; almost a pristine color. And finally his face; youthful and achingly beautiful. She starts a little, caught off guard by his youthful countenance and lets her guard down for a moment.  
  
Rushing forward, Link knocks the hesitating fighter down, pinning them under his shield. He wondered why they'd opened such a large hole in their defense but at the moment it happened, he took advantage of it. His weight rests lightly against the back of his shield, pinning the struggling body under both it and him.  
  
"I won't hurt you if you tell me who you are and what you're doing here" he says between breaths, his eyes closed. He'd closed them as the impact hit underneath his shield and opened them slowly now, looking up towards the face of his competitor and has a mild shock. Laying on the stones under him, is a female; the hood of the cloak thrown back. His eyes rake over her hair in a shade of crimson; the light catching the blonde partially. She was young, not far behind him in years it looked though she retained an odd familiarity about her. It seems like she had come from his home far away; though his logic rules that out entirely. Her eyes open and he blinks down at her, at a loss for words; though he tries to make up for his speechlessness. "I'm. . .I didn't know. . .forgiv-"  
  
Her hand gripped at the small dagger shed worked out from under her skirt that she kept attached to her outer thigh in a small sheath. She'd dropped her glaive in the scuffle and had been left without any real means of defense as the boy had knocked her down. Her mind had reflexively commanded her to disable him; a tactic enforced by her father when he had trained her. She feels his body weight increase as she pulls her hand off the dagger; her fingers left moist and sticky while a few drops of his blood fall onto her cloak. Pushing him off her, she rolls him onto his back and he lets out a soft groan; her own body resting a moment on the cool surface of the tiled stone under her.  
  
She wonders what he was intending to do as she sits up and looks over his body. His sword had fallen uselessly beside him and his shield lay on the ground; still strapped to his limp arm. Gathering herself, she stands and tries to set herself to rights, a little shaken from the assault. Her gaze turns to her weapon but she freezes in movement to retrieve it; looking back to him again. Red stains his green tunic near his shoulder, turning the fabric an odd brown color. Moving closer, she crouches slightly to move her bloodstained hand to hover over his lips; feeling for breathing and finding it shallow and slow. Sickness hits her at the sight of him crumpled on the ground and she turns her hand over; staring at the red splattered on her pale skin in horror.  
  
"What have I done. . .?" 


	4. Injuries and Apologies

Disclaimer: You know the drill. No real owning of the goods from Nintendo or Namco. . .though maybe I have Link in my closet, maybe not XD.  
  
AN: Same stuff as before and such. Thank you all so much for the great reviews! I honestly didn't think I'd be any good at this, but it makes me happy to know I may be at least decent. Just thought I'd clear up that the girl is an original character for ppl who may be confused like Dark Triforce. Other than that, no other thoughts!  
  
Chapter 3  
  
The minutes march by like an eternity as she stares at the lifeless body of her attacker. She had only tried to protect herself, though a small voice in her mind screams at her that she had just done something terribly wrong.  
  
"What do I do? He seems hurt so badly. . .Did I truly injure him that much?" she murmurs numbly as the wind brushes her hair around her shoulders. Her thoughts wrestle with each other debating fleeing, helping him, or just waiting to see if he will recover. Leaning over him again, she takes his empty hand in hers and carefully works the soft leather glove off his fingers and lays it aside. He seems so pale, almost ashen to the point where she wonders if his blood loss is the cause or is he naturally that way. Laying two fingers over his wrist, she feels for his pulse; adjusting the placement of her fingers after every few minutes until she feels a movement of life from his veins. It seemed steady, though to her dismay it felt forced and weak. "What would you do, Hikaru. . .should I try to save him? Would he try to give me a turn in exchange for the damage I've caused?" she wonders as her eyes study the lines in his hand where he had held the sword only moments earlier.  
  
A soft but pained moan breaks her mental scuffle and draws her gaze to his face. A possible omen or an unconscious plea for her aid maybe; but in any case, she lays his hand down and returns to her pack; picking up her cold glaive to lay against the wall before returning to him with the pack clutched to her. She settles on her knees beside him, digging through the contents she had brought with her until her hand closes over a bundle of white cloth. Laying it aside, her hand plunders her pack of her water kept in a waterproof sack and corked tight at one end. "I will try to not hurt you further. . ." she says softly to her ward, setting the water down too. His tunic is a mess of blood and covers his injury from her care, but first things first; her dagger.  
  
Her fingers shake as they close around the handle of the small blade; holding it in a half-frightened grip. "I'm sorry. . .this may hurt. But it's the only way." She says in a low voice before flexing her arm muscle and drawing the blade out as carefully as she can manage. It pulls free as her arm jerks back from the sudden lack of resistance against her efforts while the wound pushes a meager amount of more blood through his tunic. "Good thing it seems like it's not too deep. . .maybe it was good I didn't get a bigger dagger after all." She needed to check the wound itself to be sure however; and to do that, his tunic would pose a problem.  
  
Should she undress him. . .? Her cheeks burned a light pink at the very thought of doing something so intimate with a perfect stranger. No, she'd just cut away a portion of the cloth. . .it was stained already anyhow. The bloodstained blade slices through the fabric slowly as she pulls it carefully in her direction; creating a gash in the cloth from the neckline to almost under his arm. Her free fingers peel away the wet garment, exposing his shoulder and upper chest. The ugliness of the wound clashes bitterly with his pale skin so much that she wants to look away; and almost does except for her resolve to help him now that she had started.  
  
Dropping the dagger aside, she takes up her water bag, uncorking it with her teeth and pouring the contents liberally over the gash. The blood washes away, showing a clean slash in his delicate looking skin. She pushes the cork back into the bottle with her teeth again and sets it aside as well, her clean hand touches the injury, pulling it aside a little to see how much damage she'd produced. "It's shallow. . .I may not need to stitch it up, but just in case. . ."  
  
The evening dropped gently around the two figures resting by a small fire. The lifeless one swimming through muddled dreams; images of home, people he knew, the princess. . .that girl. She had such haunting green eyes that pierced him. . .pierce? His chest, he remembered.  
  
It hurt.  
  
His hand gropes drunkenly around; eyes still closed until he finds his chest. It is bare; and that does not seem to make sense. . .nor does the odd texture of the aching wound. He forces his eyes open, squinting at the dancing flames near his feet. His mind, too sluggish to make good logic, ignores how or who had made a fire here. His elbows fall back and he sits up, biting his lower lip to hold back a groan of pain and settles for the grunt it comes out as instead. His eyes fall to his chest, noticing the ruined tunic and the absence of blood on his skin despite the mess on the tattered cloth hanging down over his belt.  
  
"What in the worlds happened. . .?" He tilts his chin sharply inwards so he can get a look at his injury and finds it bandaged over for the most part, but the hint of thread hanging out of the bottom. His fingers peel up the bandage partially so he can see the wound itself, finding it swollen, but now a healthy shade of dark pink and held together with tiny, neat, even stitches. Letting the bandage back down, he undoes his belt and pulls the tunic off over his head, knocking his hat off and mussing his hair recklessly.  
  
The cool night air makes him shiver a little, but he does not mind; knowing that if he stays moving, he will warm up and keep from getting stiff muscles. "So much for this tunic. . .I'll have to buy a new one. . .and I liked this one too." He scowls a little then smirks at his own shallowness. "I wonder where that girl went. . .probably long gone. Did she heal me? Why?" he muses as he remembers the scuffle. "I suppose I deserve this. . .I got reckless. You shouldn't attack females unless needed; and she didn't seem to want to harm me. . .unless you count that bit at the end."  
  
"Good for her though, I'm glad one of us was thinking like a warrior." He tosses a few sticks scattered around into the small blaze and looks around the ruins. It was peaceful; nothing at all like before he'd fallen into darkness. His eyes scan the floor for his sword and shield, finding them propped near where he'd been laying; and near the bottom of a boot. He looks over and finds the other figure sharing the fire with him, covered in that cloak from earlier.  
  
Her body lay sprawled on the cobbles with her side rising and falling gently, as if she'd slumped over in exhaustion while sitting up and fighting rest. He moves over to her on his knees and gets a closer look. Her hair reflected the light and framed her face with warm hues in an attractive way. She looked so peaceful, yet so forlorn all at once; as if she slept grudgingly and was unhappy to do so. He dares to reach over and pluck a piece of grass from the strands of hair on her shoulder as she lay on her side; her mouth open slightly and red-tinged fingers completely limp on the ground.  
  
"Why did you stay. . .?" He says softly, as if expecting an answer. She had helped him, he knew it now, and he was indebted to her; even if she'd been the one to injure him. "I'll explain it all to you in the morning." He adds, smiling sheepishly and settling his back against the wall close to her head. "For now, I'll just make sure we both stay safe for the night." He pulls his spare cloak from his traveling pack and wraps it around himself, relaxing back in the warm cloth and settling his eyes on her as he keeps watch for the night until he gives in at last to sleep against his will with a hint of a smile on his face. 


End file.
